


Miraculous Fabric

by constant_consumption



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Chaotic Marinette Dupain-Cheng, College AU, Crack, Fluff, Humor, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug is Called MDC, Marinette is the Guardian, Multi, Post-Hawk Moth Defeat, damian is a marinette wrangler, how miraculous work, marinette lives off caffeine and spite, marinette roasts gotham fashion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25354828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constant_consumption/pseuds/constant_consumption
Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng was fed up with the trash fashion of Gotham. She supposed she shouldn’t be one to talk, what with how awful her Ladybug suit was during her highschool years, but in her defense, her suit was magical, and she didn’t have the capabilities to change it at that point. But Gotham’s heroes and villains? Marinette couldn’t fathom why they would willingly gallivant around the city in the worst color schemes she’s ever seen. If they’re going to scar the poor civilian’s eyes, at least do it with blood, and not fashion.
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Damian Wayne
Comments: 21
Kudos: 476





	Miraculous Fabric

Marinette scowled as she scrolled through her newsfeed. 

“Who’s got your panties in a twist?” Harper twirled his pencil while leaning backwards. “Or have you gotten someone else’s panties in a twist?

“There was another holdup with the Joker yesterday. He escaped Batman and his team, yet again.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we all know that the Joker escaping isn’t what really has you upset.” Claude looked up from his laptop bemused. They were Gothamites, after all, and did the citizens really give a damn about what the villains did, so long as it didn’t affect their daily schedule? Of course not. They couldn’t live their lives in fear-- that would just be tiring.

Although, it was amusing how easily Marinette adapted to the vastly different climate of Gotham. Most people took at least a year to stop freaking out when they moved out to Gotham, and Marinette had only been here in Gotham for a month and a half. She once said that it was because Paris was hell, but she never really elaborated past that.

Marinette groaned, and Allegra patted her friend on her shoulder before returning to her planner. “Why can’t they just stop with the horrible costumes? It’s bad enough that they’re terrorizing everybody, but can they at least do it in a way that won’t scar my eyes?”

“You know, most people would say that the weapons of mass panic that they carry are what’s scarring, not their fashion sense.” Allegra said. Their biweekly study sessions typically consisted of Marinette finishing her work alarmingly quickly, then complaining about the fashion sense of whatever villain decided to grace Gotham that week until the rest of them finished their work.

Marinette waved a hand. “Please, guts and gore scare no one. I don’t know why they’re even still at it. Surely they know that the citizens of Gotham have become desensitized!”

“I’d say that the akumas from your hometown are far worse than any of our villains here.” Felix said, putting his book aside for a moment. “My mother knows how awful Gabriel was with colors.”

“Exactly! It was only Gabriel who was making all of those awful designs, and the guy was the head of a fashion house. I bet you his akuma designs are all based on intern rejects and whatever drug he was on that made him think that terrorizing Paris for years would bring back his wife.” Marinette was certainly glad that Hawkmoth’s reign of terror was over. Sure, she could have continued to fight the akumas, no problem, but did she want to? Absolutely not. She still had nightmares about what happened during her high school years. The funny ones were modeled off of Hawkmoth’s villain designs. The bad ones were about literally anything else that happened during her three years as Ladybug.

“Don’t even get me started on the heroes of Gotham. Capes? What are they thinking? Have they never watched the Incredibles? And Robin’s color scheme makes me cry myself to sleep every other night.” Marinette continued scrolling through her phone. It became part of her nature to keep up with the news internationally, though she kept closer tabs on Gotham and Paris. After Master Fu forced Guardianship upon her-- not that she minded all that much, the man was 198, and he was long overdue for retirement--it became her duty to know if there was any Great Evil that appeared. As it stood currently, most Supernatural Evils were being taken care of by the Justice League and the Avengers.

“Maybe you could set up shop, Nettie. Send Gotham’s vigilantes some original designs.” Bridgette suggested. She was doing chemistry homework online. Each question was so rote and repetitive, she wanted to stab her eyes with a thousand needles every time she answered one.

Marinette scrunched up her nose. “Definitely not that one. Even Rin is better than Nettie.”

“Give us something to work with Marinette! You’ve refused every nickname for the past two weeks!” Harper sunk into the chair even further. He was supposed to be doing his communications assignment, but he hated writing essays. General Education classes were the worst. 

“But your nicknaming sense is the worst. That’s not my fault.”

“What do you mean! We all have awesome nicknames!”

Felix looked up, amused. “No, I agree with Marinette on this one. The purpose of nicknames is to shorten a person’s original name in an endearing manner, and most of our nicknames do not accomplish that.”

“You’re just mad because your nickname is Grumpy Cat,” muttered Harper. “Besides, all of the nicknames we’ve come up with for Marinette are shorter than her real name.”

“But they’re so unoriginal. None of your nicknames are derivatives of your names.” 

Bridgette slammed her computer shut. “I am  _ done _ with chemistry for the day. I am not going to finish that assignment tonight. No way. Let’s go grab some pizza or something.”

“Bridgette, growing some inner rage now that you’re in college. Next thing you know, Felix will start offering to walk old ladies across the street.” Claude jabbed, closing his laptop as well. 

“Hey! Felix is nice when he wants to be.” Bridgette was offended on Felix’s behalf. Felix just rolled his eyes and tucked his book into his satchel. 

“Oh Bridgette,” Harper lamented. “Your boyfriend is only nice to you.”

“He’s nice to Allegra and Marinette as well!”

“That’s because they’ve earned my respect.” Felix said, standing leisurely and offering Bridgette a hand up from her seat. 

Harper flopped onto the ground, clutching his heart. “And yet you don’t respect me? Felix, my darling, we’ve known each other for twelve years, and yet Marinette comes to steal your love from me!”

“The wonders of Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” chorused Claude, Allegra, and Bridgette.

“Do you think Mercury will join us at the pizza joint?” 

Harper snorted. “Keith is a cryptid.”

#

Marinette thumbed through her phone again. Gotham might have some awful villains running around it-- running on pure spite, rather than magic-- but it certainly had its charms as well. Deep dish pizza, for one. The beautiful gardens of Wayne Enterprise, which was apparently the joint effort of Bruce and the rogue Poison Ivy. The Gothic architecture was also nice in comparison to the Baroque and Roman type structures that Paris was filled with, and it certainly got her creative juices flowing.

Bridgette wasn’t wrong. If she could, she would definitely design better costumes for the heroes of Gotham. She wasn’t too sure about designing for the villains-- it almost seemed fitting that wherever she go, the villains be decked out in the most ridiculous fashion they could be-- but after having one too many nightmares of having the Joker turn into an akuma whose costume was exactly the same as the outfit he normally wore, she started rethinking her stance. She had enough nightmares and bad feelings left over from dealing with the akuma, and she didn’t need to have the beginnings of a panic attack every time she saw one of Gotham’s rogues. Despite the fact that she held herself together while watching video clips of them, she didn’t enjoy the breathing exercises she had to take herself through afterwards. It was ironic that Ladybug, who had faced so many villains in her own time, now felt like throwing up after simply watching pre recorded images of people she never even met. Perhaps the likes of Joker, Two-Faced, and The Riddler weren’t that bad in person.

Thus, Marinette set herself on another quest. Her brand, MDC, was doing remarkably well as of late, but she recently limited her commissions for the sake of her own mental health. Before starting at Gotham University, she always took on an insane amount of work, doing anywhere from 8-10 commissions a month. Dealing with constant stress from akumas and the idiots in her school meant that commissions had been more of an escape, than anything. They were the only part of her day where Marinette was able to focus on something that wasn’t the awful joke that was her life. 

In Gotham, though, after realizing that this was the perfect time to work on herself and allow herself a well-deserved break, she rolled it back to 3 commissions a month, maybe 4 or 5 if someone she personally knew called in a favor. Plus, with her coursework mostly being general education requirements instead of major classes and her friends not being complete douchebags and screwing her over with “favors” right and left, Marinette figured that she had time to whip up a little something for the heroes and rogues of Gotham. They might not ever get used, sure, but that wasn’t to say that it was impossible.

After setting out a tray of snacks for the kwamii, Marinette set herself to research. She didn’t have much experience with what kind of suits that the vigilantes of Gotham needed, but she figured that since she couldn’t use the magic material that Miraculous suits were made out of, she might as well figure out how to work with Kevlar and other similar materials. The issue was that Kevlar was largely inflexible, and after watching a few of the stunts that Batman and his crew pulled off, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that these suits needed to be forgiving as well as durable.

“You know,” Tikki said from the cushion that the kwamii took to lying on, “you could cast a Lucky Charm to get fabric similar to your suit.”

“And have Batman’s suit disappear if Ladybug needs to be brought back? Thank you, but I’d rather not have an angry, powerful, unmasked crew of vigilantes on my back after they become naked in the middle of a battle.”

“If you make costumes for the rogues too, then they’d be at a standstill,” pointed out Plagg, who immediately started cracking up alongside Nooroo.

Marinette buried her head in her hands and laughed, imagining the image. The Joker in his birthday suit with his makeup as his only cover. She wondered if he used foundation all over his body; probably not. Her next question: which rogues and which vigilantes would cover themselves up in embarrassment, which ones would immediately go on a rampage, and which ones would continue like nothing happened? Somehow, Marinette was sure that most of the major villains didn’t care about the public seeing them in the nude. Except the Riddler, maybe.

“Plagg!” Marinette complained, “That definitely means that I shouldn’t make costumes from them out of a Lucky Charm!”

“You can’t say you didn’t imagine it, kid.” Plagg took another bite of his cheese-- thankfully, Marinette and Tikki managed to convince him to switch to Gouda and Blue Cheese instead of Camembert, which was too smelly and too expensive for them to handle. After Marinette let the kwamii out more often, the ones with more expensive (and smelly) food habits were forced by the others to rethink their choices.

“I suppose I could do with a Lucky Charm, though,” Marinette begrudgingly agreed. She hadn’t used her powers as Ladybug since Hawkmoth was defeated, and Lucky Charms did help fend off some of the more destructive elements in the air; it would be good to see whether the resulting Miraculous Ladybug helped all of the chaos in Gotham to settle. Marinette hadn’t tried to do anything in Gotham since she arrived, partially because she was still settling in and didn’t want to disrupt the fragile peace she achieved, and partially because she didn’t want to step on Batman’s toes. However, if she cast a Lucky Charm and performed a Miraculous Ladybug quickly afterwards, there shouldn’t be any major repercussions. 

If she wanted to make a good, lasting suit for the vigilantes of Gotham, she needed the best fabric. By casting a Lucky Charm, she could see if there was a regular fabric equivalent, or maybe even see if Lucky Charms stayed after she transformed. That was a new thought-- she never had to deal with that problem when Hawkmoth was around, and it would be interesting just to see more of how the Miraculous Magic worked. Though she and Master Fu largely translated the tome Gabriel Agreste had, there was a lot about the basic uses that was left out. Perhaps if the Lucky Charm did stay, she could figure out a way to weave the magic fabric into the suits as a reinforcement. That would be cool. 

“All right then,” Marinette fiddled with the earrings she was currently wearing, taking one of the pairs off to put on the Ladybug Miraculous. They were certainly crafted in a fashion that felt much more expensive than any of the earrings that Marinette currently owned. She admired the look in the mirror; black against gold was always stunning, and she loved the crawler earrings that she bought. “Tikki, transformez-moi!”

Yes, this was nostalgic. After translating more of the book and several late nights with Tikki experimenting as the battle with Hawkmoth became more fierce, she discovered that she no longer had to say the phrase to transform herself, but it still felt nice to. The words were a nice reminder that Ladybug came with responsibilities that Marinette did not. At least, responsibilities that Marinette didn’t, when she wasn’t the Guardian.

Not for the first time, she cursed Master Fu for putting such an enormous responsibility on her shoulders when she was just 16 years old. Sure, he had his whole life in flames at 14, but that didn’t mean he had to do it to the next generation too. Marinette might have also been a little bit bitter over accepting Guardianship, but after being Ladybug, she figured there wasn’t much worse the world could do to her. Besides, she would be lonely if she didn’t have Tikki by her side.

It was odd having Nooroo by her side instead of battling him. She felt awful for having Gabriel abuse him like that, but he and all the other kwamii had been surprisingly accepting. Apparently, it was normal to have at least one Miraculous fall into unworthy hands every generation. It was just odd that there had been two.

Duusu was doing better, now, but still recovering.

“Lucky Charm!” Marinette said, tossing her yoyo lightly. The ceilings of her apartment were low-- Gotham University was mostly a commuter school, since Gotham’s public transportation was world renowned, much like New York, and Marinette wasn’t awfully fond of the dorms that she saw online. Thus, she decided on her apartment, and was glad for it; some of her university friends had awful complaints about their roommates. She was glad that she never ran into the dreaded sock on the door.

A roll of fabric landed in her hands. The Lucky Charm was an odd bit of magic. For her first few years as Ladybug, she was bestowed with the weirdest items she could think of, but they all worked out in the end. Towards the end of her career as Ladybug, she knew exactly what she needed in each situation, and the Lucky Charm almost always transformed itself into whatever she thought she needed. 

“Let’s see what kind of fabric you are, then.” Marinette used scissors in an attempt to cut off a piece of the fabric, but to no avail. She forgot how sturdy her suit was, but boy, was its magic a blessing. Giving up on her cutting tools, she turned to a lighter instead. She doubted that there would be much of a response, but she wondered if the fabric would curl up like synthetic fabrics did. To no one’s surprise, the fabric failed to catch fire at all. Marinette stretched it and groaned. It behaved like some weird combination of spandex and silk, but the small hexagonal design that made up its weave definitely contributed to some of its durability. That would be difficult to replicate, but Marinette had no doubt that it would pay off in the end.

She scribbled down some notes, took out swatches of miscellaneous fabric to compare. This would certainly be a fabric to puzzle the ages. The breathability of linen, the stretchiness of fabric, the strength of silk, and the ability to prevent sharp objects from cutting it. Though Marinette didn’t have a gun-- nor did she have much experience with working with one, other than that one akuma-- she would bet that it could probably hold its own against medium grade kevlar. 

“If you cataclysm this, would it disintegrate?” Marinette asked Plagg.

“The integrity would be compromised, but it wouldn’t disintegrate on the first one. Depends mostly on the bond of the kwamii and their chosen. The stronger the bond, the stronger the fabric.”

Marinette wondered how that played into the fabric she was currently handling. Was it as strong as her bond with Tikki or was it the same strength as it would have if a person who wasn’t suited for the Miraculous was using it? There wasn’t any concrete way to test that; Marinette wouldn’t be thrilled to have Plagg cataclysm her, and she wasn’t sure whether it would affect Tikki’s well being. She would just assume that the fabric was of a lower grade than her own suit.

On to her next question. She recalled Tikki wordlessly and watched the fabric with baited breath. It didn’t disappear. Didn’t waver out of existence. Marinette took her scissors to see if the fabric’s constitution changed. Nope. It was still indestructible. Fire resistant, water wicking, water resistant (she wasn’t sure how the two worked together), stretchy and durable. 

“Hmm.” Marinette eyed the fabric, then looked at Tikki. “Do you feel more or less tired in comparison to when I use the Ladybug Cure.”

“Less tired,” Tikki said, eating a cookie good-naturedly. 

“Are you up for another few transformations?” Marinette asked, then reconsidered. “Actually, maybe it would be best if we spread this out over some time. The fabric’s integrity might decrease with time. Meanwhile, I’ll figure out how I want to redesign the local flora and fauna of Gotham.” And figure out how to dye the garish red and black spotted fabric into different colors. Marinette really hoped that she would be able to change the color of the fabric, because if she didn’t, she would be better off not giving them a costume redesign at all. Or at least, a redesign without the magic fabric involved.

Marinette set herself down at her desk, scratching away at her sketchbook. 

When she went to bed, she had nightmares of a ladybug patterned Batman pronouncing around Gotham. An awful sight, indeed. 

#

“Yes, Papa, I really am loving it here in Gotham. The attacks are no big deal.”

Marinette loved her parents, but they were too caring when they didn’t have to be, and too unobservant when she needed them to help her out. Yes, it was her fault for not telling them the extent of what Lila was doing, but it would have been nice for them to check in with her every now and then. As for her run as Ladybug-- she only hoped that it was the Miraculous magic that prevented her parents from realizing the obvious fact it was her. It was great that they didn’t get involved because they thought a qualified super hero had Paris under control, but some days it was sort of frustrating. 

She was their only child of 18 years. For them to not recognize her was one thing, but not realizing that their daughter was absent nearly every night? That was hard to believe. After a few of the harder akuma attacks, there were certainly days that she landed harder and louder on her balcony, almost hoping that her parents would find out her alter ego and offer comfort to her. Marinette was glad that she had been independent since childhood, and that her competence only grew after being Ladybug, because otherwise, she would have been toast.

“Sweetheart, are you sure? We miss you so very much here in Paris, and all of your classmates drop by to ask about you too.” Oh, Papa. So clueless. Even after all of the drama in her classroom went down, he was still largely oblivious to the tears in her friendships. 

Maman grabbed the phone from her husband. “Don’t mind your classmates, sweetheart. Just know that if you ever want to come back, you’re more than welcome. It must be hard going from one villain infested city to the next.”

“It’s fine, Maman. If anything, Paris just prepared me for Gotham better.” Except Paris and Gotham were still total opposites. Akumas were, for the most part, victims. The rogues here in Gotham made a conscious choice to terrorize. And they didn’t have magic. They had guns and knives. And the Miraculous Cure didn’t reverse damage that wasn’t inflicted by a Miraculous. At least, not to her knowledge.

The Miraculous were still largely a mystery to Marinette. The tome that Gabriel had only told her how to get extra transformations for various situations. It didn’t tell her how the Miraculous actually worked; she had to discover that for herself. Maybe there was another book out there that was the equivalent of Miraculous 101. 

“I’ve got to get to class now. Love you, bye,” Marinette said, barely pausing to hear her parents response. She loved her parents. She really did. But she was still bitter. 

She wasn’t lying; she did have classes. Despite all of the credits she racked up in high school for taking advanced courses, Gotham University insisted that their first years have a well-rounded experience. Which meant taking classes she never would have as a fashion major. Which meant physics. 

#

“Never again,” wailed Marinette. “I just don’t understand.”

Physics was awful. It didn’t make any sense-- probably because her sense of physics was firmly distorted by magic, because apparently magic made what physics said was impossible, possible. But her practical experience had nothing on rotational dynamics. Spinning around her magical yoyo didn’t translate to understanding formulas on how things worked in the real world.

“Agreed,” said Jon, one of the people who sat beside her. “Physics just doesn’t make sense.”

They just got back their midterms, and while Marinette got a passing grade, it certainly wasn’t something she was proud of, by any standard. Jon received a similar score. Claude nodded sagely. “How is it that you siblings didn’t get the genes for physics from either of your parents? It’s a known fact that at least one of you receives science knowledge, seeing as your twins and all.”

Marinette swatted him. The twin joke was a running thing ever since they met each other. “Shut it, Claude. It’s not like you have any more physics sense than we do.”

“My 77% begs to differ.” He sniffed and tossed his head.

“Maybe we have a triplet out there somewhere that took both of our physics brain cells,” Marinette laid her head down on her arm.

“I don’t know about a triplet, but we definitely have some older brothers out there who robbed us.” Jon placed his test in a folder, never to be seen again, but not before giving the red 67% another sad glance. 

Claude frowned. “You’re not talking about Damian’s brothers, are you?”

A sly grin crept onto Jon’s face. “Why yes, I am. The smart bastards stole all of mine and my poor sister’s physics capabilities, before we were even born!”

“Please tell me that his brothers aren’t as awful as he is.” Claude put away his test as well, leaning on an elbow. “How did you even meet Damian? You guys are complete opposites.”

“Our parents… have similar interests, I guess. His brothers are nice and super smart. I bet we could ask them for help.” Jon paused, then pulled out his phone. “I’ll text them and see if we can set something up.”

Claude gave him a dubious look. “Which one are you going to ask? The CEO, the head of police, or the explosives expert? I doubt they’re going to take the time to help us.”

“No, they’re all... Well, they’re all pretty nice once you get to know them,” Jon amends. “Quirky, but they all mean well. You’re right though; they’re probably busy, so we should ask someone else.”

“I’d accept tutoring from anyone at this rate.” Marinette didn’t care much for a person’s background anymore. She met more famous people than she cares to think about, but at the end of the day, they were all human. Fame had little to do with how awful a person was. Currently, she was working through the problems she missed. She was here at Gotham University through scholarship, and despite the fact that all of the commisions she’s done could have paid her way through college and graduate school, should she wish to go, she enjoyed saving her money for a rainy day, thank you very much. 

“We could always ask Felix or Allegra.”

“You know that they’re awful at teaching.” That had become evident after a single tutoring session in math, which had failed miserably and given everybody a headache after thirty minutes. Somehow, Harper’s notebook ended up on fire. Nobody was sure how that happened, but it was an experience that nobody wanted to repeat.

“If you’re desperate for tutoring, we could always ask Damian. He’s less busy than his brothers are, and he is taking the same course as we are.”

“No way am I getting tutored by Damian. He’d probably rub it in my face. And I doubt he’s a good teacher.” Claude had a bit of a vendetta against Damian after seeing how he acted during their first years in high school. He punched out at least four different kids, threatened lawsuits on seven, and used his family name to get out of more situations than Claude could count.

“He’s gotten better,” Jon defended. 

Marinette slammed her pencil down. She had decided. “I don’t care how hellish his attitude is. As long as he’s a good tutor, I’ll do anything to bring up my grade.”

Jon looked at Marinette’s paper again. A fat, red 65% was on the upper right corner. “I’ll set up a study session with him, then. How does this Thursday sound?”

“Perfect,” said Marinette, pencilling it in on her planner. 

“Perfect,” groaned Claude, eyes towards the sky. “If this goes horribly, I’m blaming it on you, Marinette.”

#

After extensive testing, Marinette finally decided that it was highly unlikely that the Miraculous fabric would disappear at random. 

She summoned four Lucky Charms, exerted herself as well as she could within the four walls of her apartment (which meant burpees, jumprope, and jumping jacks for at least half a day), cast three Miracle Cures, and used Cataclysm on a fabric once before she was able to cut it like it was a non magical entity. As it turned out, the only way to cut or sew the fabric was to use other summoned Lucky Charms. Marinette decided that after she was done making suits for the vigilantes of Gotham, she would be done trying to use the Miracle Fabric. It was too much effort to work with, and if she did decide to give the rogues of Gotham a redesign, nobody would mind too much if the Batclan had an advantage over them in protection. 

After all of the testing she completed, Marinette was fairly confident that the Miracle Fabric (as she and the kwamii took to calling it) wouldn’t magically disappear, but just in case they did, she decided to use it as an inner lining to the designs that she created.

An inner lining because Marinette couldn’t figure out a way to get the fabric to dye the way she wanted it to. She could turn it black or red, no problem, but if she wanted it any other color? No dice. It was incredibly frustrating, but that was magic. After a few more Lucky Charms, she decided she could also hand weave some of the Miracle Thread into the outer layer of the designs for extra protection.

“Marinette, you should go to sleep.” Tikki rubbed her eyes, getting up from one of the pillows that the kwamii used as a bed. Marinette liked having the kwamii out, because gods or not, they deserved to have more freedom than Master Fu granted them. The kwamii enjoyed being out of their Miraculous, and took to lounging around Marinette’s apartment even when she wasn’t there. 

Looking up from her red and black spotted sewing machine, Marinette smiled at her kwamii. “In a little, Tikki. I just have to finish sewing the lining in, and then I’ll be done for the night.”

Tikki blinked her eyes, then nodded back off.

Ah, yes, this was part of the reason why Marinette stopped taking on so many commissions. It was always hard for her to sleep knowing that there was a project waiting for her. In the days of Paris, that had been nice, because at least that meant she wouldn’t have another stress induced nightmare that scarred her for weeks. 

Marinette kept the frequency and intensity of her continued nightmares a secret from her kwamii. She didn’t want to worry them, but despite the defeat of Hawkmoth, her sleep habits didn’t get much better. She was scared of going to sleep. Her dreams were so much worse than reality, because in reality, the Miracle Cure fixed what she saw in her dreams. And Marinette knew that. But it didn’t make her nightmares feel any less real, especially not when there were so many elements that did happen and couldn’t be changed.

Some nights, she saw Syren. She saw hundreds of thousands of Parisians drowned, some bodies floating on the surface, other people struggling to stay afloat. She saw her Maman and Papa akumatized as they chased after her, angry that she was not a perfect child. She saw Master Fu pushing Guardianship to her, then losing his memory. Her classmates, turning on her, taunting her as she fell down a staircase that was so long she never reached the end of it. Cold eyes and cold smiles. Broken promises coupled with betrayals that she never saw coming. 

Sometimes, she dreamed of akumas that never existed, but could have in some parallel world. Where murderers and terrorists got akumatized and they wreaked havoc on not just Paris, but worldwide. Scarecrow getting akumatized and her current friends turning on her. 

Other nights, she saw Chat Noir-- no, Adrien, but she wasn’t sure which was worse-- approach her on rooftops, chasing after her. He wanted her, but what did he want from her? He wanted her body, her lips, but never her heart. She saw his unwillingness to help her shift to a feral desire to have her. There were times that he used Cataclysm on her. There were times that he touched her in ways that Marinette didn’t ever want to experience in real life. These were some of the worst of the nightmares, because they weren’t fueled by magic. These were the ones that Marinette woke up crying in the middle of the night for. 

All of these were things she saw nearly every single night she went to sleep. Sometimes, when she kept herself busy enough, she didn’t dream at all. Those were the best nights. She always woke up with more pep.

One time, Marinette contemplated going to a therapist. She decided against it very quickly; she wasn’t sure how therapy worked, but she was fairly sure that she’d get sent to an insane asylum telling anyone about her life story. Instead, she used a sketchbook to fill up with all of the most outlandish outfits that appeared in her dreams. Occasionally, she’d write a word or two down besides it, but after Sabrina stole her diary back in high school, Marinette was always too scared of having her secrets exposed by writing down her experience. 

Marinette managed a soft smile at the kwamii before opening her window and climbing onto the fire escape.

This aspect of Gotham was pretty nice in comparison to Paris; most residential areas weren’t very tall, so there wasn’t much of a need for things like fire escapes. Nearly every residential building in this area had a fire escape, and she could breath when she was out in the night sky. It was biting cold out and everything was pristine. The good thing about Gotham being the capital of crime was that there weren’t very many cars or people out after a certain hour; Gothamites didn’t want to attract any villain’s attention. That meant the hustle bustle of a city like New York or Paris didn’t exist here. 

It was blissfully silent.

**Author's Note:**

> I now have a tumblr! https://consumeconstantly.tumblr.com/


End file.
